


An Old Story

by ficsoreal



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsoreal/pseuds/ficsoreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some stories are as old as time.</p><blockquote>
<i>…Now Joseph was handsome in form and appearance. And it came to pass after these things that his master's wife cast longing eyes on Joseph, and she said, "Lie with me."<br/>-Genesis 39:6-7</i>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elzed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/gifts).



Peter Burke has a life and a career that does not, in fact, revolve around Neal Caffrey. Logically, Neal knows this, but it's still disconcerting to find himself alone for an entire week while Peter attends some stuffy conference dedicated to rooting out insurance fraud.

For all of one day, he's ecstatic about his little vacation, but elation quickly turns to boredom, because Peter is gone, but the tracker is still firmly in place along with his restriction to within a two mile radius of June's house.

Moz spends most of the day with him, but despite appearances to the contrary, Moz actually has his own life and work to attend to. Neal drifts around the house and flirts with Cindy under June's gleeful eyes. He finds it more than a little disturbing how on board June seems to be with the idea of him sleeping with her granddaughter. June probably considers it an opportunity for a learning experience; she's kind of out there concerning family values.

He retires to his room shamefully early, puts on his sleep pants and settles in for the night. He dutifully checks in with Hughes and Jones at around eight and laughs half-heartedly when Jones asks, "Enjoying the down time?"

"I barely know what to do with myself," he replies. Jones chuckles and hangs up, leaving Neal alone with the truth. He really doesn't know what to do with himself.

He's not working on any new cases, because Peter's not around to supervise and Hughes doesn't trust him to actually help any of the other agents rather than lead them artfully astray.

Not an invalid concern.

The ringing of the doorbell catches his attention; he stands up straight, ears perked. He considers getting redressed, maybe June's invited some friends over for him to charm or better yet, maybe Cindy has.

But the maid knocks on his door before he has a chance to make a decision. Opening his door and finding Elizabeth on the other side is a bit of a surprise. She's wearing a dark pink trench over one of the flowy little dresses she seems to favor and strappy black heels, a bottle in one hand and a clutch in the other.

He blinks, totally thrown for a moment, before smiling with genuine pleasure. "Elizabeth."

She smiles and raises the bottle of wine at him. "I thought you might like some company." Her smile dims a little, eyes darting over his state of undress. "Or was that silly of me?"

Neal steps out of the doorway and takes the bottle from her. "Please, come in." He goes to grab a couple of wine glasses as she wanders around the room, peering at the odds and ends, touching the furniture.

He has the oddest thought that she's leaving fingerprints everywhere and he shakes his head. This isn't a crime scene.

"So," he says and hands her a glass, "house too quiet for you?"

"I have a hard time sleeping when Peter's away." She sits down on the couch and pats the space beside her.

Neal dips his head and takes a seat; the television isn't on anything in particular and they sip in silence for a moment or two.

Elizabeth smiles suddenly, gaze caught by something in his DVD case. "The Thomas Crown Affair? Really, Neal?"

He grins back. "Both versions, actually."

"Which do you prefer?" She looks at him, head tilted to the side.

"The Brosnan version. I admit it; I'm a sucker for a happy ending."

She places her glass on the table and turns toward him. "Would you gamble everything on love and loyalty?" Her blue eyes are wide, guileless. Neal practices the same expression every morning in the mirror. That doesn't make it any less effective.

He thinks about Kate asking him for the location of his assets and remembers saying no despite the distress in her voice, despite believing she was in danger.

"Yes."

Elizabeth smiles and looks down shyly before glancing back up at him through her eyelashes. "You're not what I was expecting."

It goes without saying, at least to Neal, Elizabeth probably knows as much about his past and alleged crimes as Peter, if not more. Simply because she's coming from a totally different perspective than her husband; Elizabeth has excellent taste and understands the thrill of the finer things in life. He clears his throat. "How so?"

She reaches up and pushes a piece of hair behind his ear and alarm bells start ringing like he's taken a blow to the head. "Umm, Elizabeth?"

"Neal," she murmurs and shifts closer. Danger, danger, danger.

He licks his lips nervously and her gaze drops to check the motion and his foolish, foolish, fickle dick takes notice. He swallows and opens his mouth. "I'm really kind of uncomfortable right now."

She moves even closer and all he can see is big blue eyes. Neal tries again, because this is so desperately important. He has a good thing going with Peter and he absolutely doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. Peter's an awesome guy and he's trusting Neal more and more each day he doesn't mess up and Neal wants to keep his streak alive. "I don't think—"

"It's okay, sweetie, don't," Elizabeth whispers before kissing him.

Neal hasn't had sex in a long, long time. There was the whole prison thing, the Kate thing and the fact that he's wearing a fucking tracker around his ankle. The whole anklet thing is more trouble than its worth to explain just for a quickie and Neal isn't going to ruin a fabulous suit by fucking with his pants still on. He's groped a lot of people and been groped, but mostly in the line of work. Privately, it's just been him and his right hand.

Elizabeth's mouth is soft and lush and she smells really good. Her hair slides smoothly between his fingers and oh, God, he's touching her hair, adjusting the fit of their mouths so that he can deepen the kiss. Her two front teeth are slightly uneven and she shivers when he bites her bottom lip.

She urges him back against the couch and he wonders if she's always this pushy, if she treats Peter like this. Heat pools in his stomach at the thought and Jesus, there's something wrong with him, but he wants to know. He wants to know how Peter fucks his wife.

He wants to know what getting fucked by Peter feels like.

"Wait." Neal grips Elizabeth's upper arms and pushes her back. "I can't do this."

"Why not?" she asks, straining against his hold.

Neal boggles up at her. "Because you're married. To Peter."

Her grin is fucking filthy. "Peter's not here." She shoves her hand down between them and curves her fingers around his cock.

Fuck. His hips jerk up and Elizabeth's eyes glitter. He says through gritted teeth, "I'm not that kind of boy."

Elizabeth tightens her grip. "Of course, you're that kind of boy." She leans in close and kisses along his jaw up towards his ear. "Don't worry, Neal. If you're good, I'll ask Peter to fuck you when he gets home."

There is no way he can hide his reaction to those words with the way Elizabeth's working his dick through his pants.

"Oh," she breathes, "you like that. I told Peter all you needed was a hard fuck. You'd think he'd be used to me always being right by now." She lets go of his dick to pull at his pants, stretching the fabric.

It's entirely possible that Neal lost control of this situation the moment Elizabeth walked through his door. He watches, rendered speechless by the thought of Peter fucking him, as she pulls his dick free of his purple boxer briefs.

"Nice." She wraps her fingers around the shaft. "Peter's thicker," she says absently and Neal's hips push up helplessly. "Yeah, lift up," Elizabeth encourages. His pants and underwear end up hanging off one ankle while she pets his dick.

"Peter talks about you constantly. Neal this and Neal that. Most of the time, I'm nodding and smiling and thinking about how you'd look with Peter's cock in your mouth."

Neal gasps, hands reaching for her. "Does Peter know how dirty your mouth is?"

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "We've been married for years. Of course, he knows. He likes it." She sits up abruptly to pull her dress over her head and straddles his thighs, black lacy bra and panties hugging her curves. She's still wearing her heels.

He grunts, an inelegant sound, when she pinches his nipple and he'll never be able to see her smile in quite the same way. He wraps his hands around her waist and resettles her over his cock.

The scrap of lace pretending to cover her is no real barrier at all, little more than a triangle and string. He pulls the fabric aside and thrusts upwards; his dick rides slickly against her, nudging her clit.

"Yes." She kisses him wetly, hands braced on his chest. "Tell me how much you want Peter's dick."

"El…"

"Do you want me to call you honey?"

Neal shakes his head and yanks her down tighter against him. He wants her to keep talking.

She shakes her hair over one shoulder and cups her breasts. Neal watches as she tugs the fabric down, tweaking a hard nipple before presenting her breasts to his mouth. "Suck me."

He isn't going to survive this. Peter's going to come to the news that his wife fucked him to death. Peter will probably consider his death good news, saving him the inconvenience of having to off Neal himself. He opens his mouth like a good boy, anyway, because that wasn't a request; it was a demand.

Elizabeth moans and rocks against him, wet and hot. Neal wants to fuck her, wants to put his cock inside her and he's honestly shocked at the language floating around his head. He mouths along the heavy curve of her breast, lace scratching his chin.

"I want to fuck you."

"Mmm, yes." Elizabeth waves her hand vaguely in the direction of her purse.

Neal tips them over carefully; Elizabeth hooks her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist to keep him close and kisses him sloppily. Usually, Neal takes his time with a new partner, but that's not going to happen tonight.

She watches as he rolls on a condom fetched from her clutch. She says, "Peter hasn't used a condom in years."

Images of Peter's come dripping out of her explode behind his eyelids and he almost bites through his tongue. He says roughly, "I want to lick you after."

"After Peter comes inside me." Elizabeth's pupils are huge with desire and she arches for him when he presses inside. "Neal," she whimpers.

Elizabeth clings to him, moaning and rolling her hips against his. Neal sucks on her earlobe and thinks about the most likely place Peter bites her, because Peter is definitely a biter.

He's seen Peter handle precious artifacts with a delicacy to rival his own, but in the majority of his work, his life, Peter is a blunt force. Neal sinks his teeth into the curve of muscle that connects her neck and shoulder and Elizabeth bucks beneath him and little ah sounds escape her mouth. Bingo.

Fucking Elizabeth has never crossed his mind, okay, that's a lie, but the fantasy usually takes place at the Burkes with Neal bending her over the dining room table while Peter tells him how brilliant he is and how they're like the most beautiful work of art he's ever seen. An innocent daydream to help pass the time, occasionally joined by the one where Kate and Elizabeth are sisters and they double team him for hours on end.

Neal hitches her legs up higher to get a better angle and strokes in deep. Elizabeth's rubbing her clit, back of her hand touching his stomach. When she comes, her head tips back and Neal nips at her exposed throat.

No longer worried about getting her there, he stops trying to make the movement of his hips smooth. Just fucks into her over and over again until he's shaking with it and pleasure filled darkness clouds his mind.

Elizabeth strokes his back afterward, ruffles the hair at his nape and keeps up a stream of lazily satisfied babble as he hides his face in her neck and tries to keep his shit together. Eventually, he eases back, because getting glued together is only going to make this more awkward.

She kisses him sweetly with her hands cupped around his face and asks, "Where's your shower?"

He points her in the right direction and waits until she disappears into the bathroom with what remains of her clothing before dropping his head into his hands. Fuck.

There's not point in regret after the fact and he needs to clean the couch before the stains set. He grabs his pants off the floor, but doesn't bother with his briefs.

Neal's placing the wine glasses in the sink, when Elizabeth comes out of the bathroom and hugs him from behind. She kisses his back between his shoulder blades and says, "Don't worry, I told Peter I'd probably swing by and check on you."

His hand spasms around the glass stem. Of course, Peter will know where Elizabeth's been while he was out of town; he had her under surveillance before they even started dating.

"See you in a couple of days, okay?" She lets him go and scoops her coat off the chair.

Neal washes and dusts every surface in the room, flushes the used condom down the toilet and spends the rest of the night taking slow, deep breaths and waiting for the world to make sense again.


End file.
